Relax, Riddle
by The Black Cat Pounce
Summary: It's 1943, Tom Riddle's 5th year at Hogwarts when in the middle of the night, a new girl shows up at the castle. She has her own broken past, not so unlike Tom's. They form a connection, but once strange attacks start happening around the castle, she promises herself that she'll find the culprit. Even as she grows closer to Tom, she grows more suspicious.
1. Chapter 1

**Basically, I'm a sucker for happy endings and romance stories. I'm trying to keep Tom as canon as I can, but giving him the ability to fall for someone. Don't worry, he won't become an angel. Hope you enjoy. Reviews always help motivate me ;)**

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It's late by the time I arrive at Hogwarts. I'm exhausted and all I want to do is collapse into a bed and sleep for days. Instead, I'm stuck at the front gates. They're closed and warded, as they should be. I want to scream. I've made it through hell to get here and now I'm stuck outside anyways. I close my eyes, trying to think. I raise my wand and fire a spell at the gates. I know I could never force my way in, but I just need someone to notice a disturbance in the wards.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, as I wrap my cloak tighter around myself, a man is walking down from the castle. His beard and hair are a delicate red, like a small flame in the dark. My breath hisses in. I didn't think I would meet him so soon. I watch the ground until he arrives on the other side of the gates. 'Reveal yourself,' he commands. I allow myself to melt out of the shadows, but leave my hood pulled up.

'I need asylum,' my accent colors my words.

'From what?' He asks, less aggressively.

'Not what, who...' I start, 'Grindelwald.' At that, the gates start to creak open.

'Follow me,' he barks. I follow him meekly, trying to keep up with his long strides. Once in the castle he leads me to an office. After traveling through various convoluted corridors, we arrive.

'Tea?' He asks.

'Please,' I say, still cold. Always cold.

'Who are you?' he asks. I bite my lip as I grip the sides of my hood. He watches me expectantly. Holding my breath, I let it fall. My golden hair and blue eyes are unmistakable. He looks as if he's seen a ghost.

'I've heard a lot about you, Albus,' I say quietly.

He's gripping the kettle a little too hard as he asks, 'How?'

I wring my hands, 'My mother and father met 16 years ago in Paris. I was born in 1927. My name is Marie Rosalie Riposte...Grindelwald. I hadn't known who my father was until last year, now I'm forever disgraced with his name.''

Dumbledore watches me. 'I see,' is all he says.

'Please, you must understand,' I say, 'I can't pick who my father is. I never wanted this. So, I beg of you to allow me to stay here.'

He sighs. 'It's not my decision, but I can take it up with the Headmaster.' I nod and he leaves the room.

A few moments later he returns with a man I can only assume is Headmaster Dippet. I explain the story once more. They confer quietly before the Headmaster announces, 'I could not deny your request. You are a child. You're welcome here at Hogwarts.' I fall to the floor, bruising my knees. Tears prick at my eyes.

'Thank you,' is all I can manage.

'Let's sort you quickly and get you into bed,' Dumbledore says. I nod, returning to my seat, sipping my tea.

Dippet waves his wand a seconds later, a ratty hat flies into the room. 'Ready?' he asks.

I nod, 'Yes.' It slips over my eyes.

'Slytherin, I think is the only match for you,' it mutters in my head. Before I can ask why, it is announced to the room. It's pulled off my head and I look at the men.

Their expressions are guarded. I sigh, 'I don't believe in my father's atrocious ideas on blood purity,' I defend myself hotly.

'Miss Riposte, I assume you'll want to go by that name?' Dippit asks.

I shake my head, 'Rosalie, please. Even Riposte is traceable.'

'Well, let's alert the Slytherin prefects. They can help you find your room. Tomorrow, you can meet your Head of House. I understand Beauxbatons has an accelerated program, so you'll fit in fine with your fellow fifth years.' Dippet calls a name I don't know and the crack of apparition fills the room.

A house-elf is given instructions to summon two people and prepare a bed in my dormitory. I recognize one of the names of the people. Black. Of course I have heard of them. The other one, I didn't recognize, Riddle. I sip my tea, waiting for these prefects to arrive. Dippet leaves.

Alone with Dumbledore, I say, 'I'm sorry, you know. For what my father did. He told me. I'm sorry. You have every right to hate me and I am forever at your mercy and in your debt for giving me this chance.' The old professor nods. A soft knock at the door brings us out of the loaded conversation. Dumbledore waves his hand and it opens. I bite my lip. Of all the things I learned with my father, wandless magic might be the only one I'll care to keep up. I wonder if they learned it together.

A girl and a boy walk in. They're my age, I can tell. She is beautiful. Grey eyes, curly black hair, she's a Black through-and-through. I rise to greet them. The boy is also beautiful. His face is angular, aristocratic, despite the unknown last name. His eyes are dark grey, his hair black as night. He is very attractive. She is wearing a dressing gown over her night clothes, hair rumpled. He looks impeccable, still in his robes, not a hair out of place.

'Hello,' he greets, before continuing. 'What is going on, Professor?' he asks.

I interject, 'Hello, my name is Marie Rosalie. I'm the newest student in your house.' Black's eyes widen.

One of Riddle's perfectly arched eyebrows goes up. 'Is that so?' his voice is like velvet, smooth and mysterious.

I sigh, 'I'm a refugee. From France, because of the muggle war, because of Grindelwald really. In any case, I look forward to a new start here.'

'Well, Ms. Rosalie, welcome,' Riddle says.

The girl extends her hand, 'Dorea Black,' she introduces herself. I shake her hand.

'Tom Riddle,' he extends his hand. I reach to shake it, but he brushes his lips across the back of my hand, ever so lightly. It's only my sheer willpower that prohibits the blood rush to my cheeks.

'It's a pleasure,' Riddle says.

'Enchanted,' I reply. Our eyes lock. He looks away first and I blink a couple times.

'Please take her to her rooms,' Dumbledore's voice brings me back to the present.

'Of course,' Black agrees.

'Please bring her to breakfast tomorrow as well. She is the newest student of your house. As prefects, it is your responsibility to ensure she is adapting well.'

Riddle meets his eyes, 'Naturally, professor.'

'Follow me,' Black says. I do so, trailing behind her. Riddle brings up the rear of our small group. She leads me down a few flights of stairs and through many hallways. It'll be a wonder if I ever figure out how to get around this place. We're in front of a stone wall when Black announces clearly, 'Salazar.' A small door opens and she steps through it. I follow and Riddle after me.

'Thank you, Ms. Black,' I murmur after she has shown me my room.

'Dorea, please.'

'Marie,' I tell her.

'You know, you lucked out by getting Slytherin,' she giggles. 'We get our own rooms after fourth year. It's quite nice!'

I smile, 'I do enjoy my privacy, if I'm honest.'

'Of course. Well, the loo is over there. We usually head to breakfast around 8am. Either Tom or I will wait in the common room for you.'

I sit on the bed, 'I can't thank you enough.'

'It's my pleasure,' Dorea says. Then, she's gone.

I try to fall asleep, but mostly I toss and turn. The room feels too cold. I always feel too cold. My window looks out into the depths of the lake. It makes the room feel insulated. I feel safe, for the first time in many months. I close my eyes eventually. But I see my mother's corpse, as though the image has been burned into my eyelids. So I open my eyes and stare out the window until I can see the green water brighten with the sunrise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, yes. I am the worst, but here is a new chapter. Review light me up and I've never been more stressed in my life, so encouragement counts double right now! Cheers, x**

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A slight knock on the door wakes me up from my night-time trance and I sit up, grasping my wand tightly. 'It's Dorea. It's 7:00. I thought you might want a wake-up call,' the voice calls through the door. I croak out a thanks. I stumble to the shower and wash up quickly. I braid my hair and return to my room clad in a towel.

A trunk at the base at my bed is full of robes. I dress in a skirt and white button-down. I add a sweater and my robes. I still feel cold, but better now that I'm clean. I walk out to the hall, then the common room. There are several people around, sitting on the black leather couches, half-awake. Some are playing chess, some waiting for their friends to be ready. By the fire sits a Tom Riddle. Slowly I make my way over to him.

'Hullo,' he greets me. Like last night, he is dressed perfectly. I don't know if I'll ever get used to the way he looks. It's unnerving how black his hair is, how symmetrical his features are.

'Good morning,' I greet him.

'Breakfast?' he asks. I nod. Rising, he offers his arm. I take it and together we stroll through the drafty castle. I don't feel so cold though. We take seats next to each other at a large table in a large hall. I watch the enchanted sky, bewildered.

'It's magnificent,' I breathe.

I return my attention to the issue at hand. Breakfast is clearly quite different in England. I see a great deal of potatoes and tomatoes and eggs. All I want though is a croissant. A fluffy, crunchy Parisian croissant. I stare at the table intently, forcing my memories down. I swallow the lump in my throat. 'Are you well?' Riddle asks. I clench my hands into fists. No one has asked me that in a year at least.

My voice is quiet, 'It's just hard for me. I've been on the run for a while. It's not an easy thing to forget.' Quieter still, I add, 'I miss my home.' And now that I've said it, I realize how true it is. I miss my apartment in the Latin Quarter with my mother. I miss the Louvre and the chocolat chaud on the Seine. I miss the cold winter mornings and the hot summer days. I miss everything so much I feel like I can't breathe.

Now isn't the time, though, so I force those feelings away. I lock them in a box in my head. 'I'm sorry,' Riddle says.

I shake my head, 'I'm just not used to it, I guess.'

His eyes watch me intently. 'I'll do what I can to make it easier on you.'

I shrug, 'Thanks.'

'Tom, my boy!' A voice exclaims from behind us, startling me. I reach for my wand instinctively before self consciously letting my hand drop.

'Professor Slughorn, meet Marie Rosalie, our newest student.'

'Welcome to Hogwarts! Here is your schedule. I'll see you in potions later today,' Professor Slughorn says. He's quite… portly. And loud. I don't enjoy loudness so I nod silently.

The hall is filling up now. I feel trapped by this many people. The professor ambles away and I clutch at the parchment to give myself a life-line. The voices of the other students feel too loud around me. I focus on my still-empty plate. I clutch at the goblet filled with water. I sip, slowly, trying to breathe. Tom either doesn't notice, or pretends not to notice. I imagine it's the latter. He doesn't seem like someone who misses things.

'What day is it?' I ask.

'Tuesday,' Riddle says, spooning eggs onto his plate.

'Double herbology,' I tell him.

'Me too, but I have patrol first. I'll walk you to the greenhouses, though.'

'Thanks.' I say. I focus on the food in front of me. I pick a hardboiled egg up and peel it methodically. I salt it and take a bite. I finish at the same time he does, even though he has eaten at least eight times the amount I ate. He is graceful about it and doesn't wolf it down like a light-haired boy further down the table.

'Why don't I show you around the castle,' he suggests. I nod. Maybe he does notice my discomfort. We exit the dining hall side by side. He informs me that it is called the Great Hall. He shows me the hour glasses with the points of each house. We meander through the charms and transfiguration classrooms, then the potions dungeon. Eventually, he leads me to the greenhouses. The class is already assembling. 'I'll see you in a bit,' he smiles at me. I nod, mute.

I've always enjoyed Herbology. I'm not amazing at it, but I like it. Quietly, I trim the leaves of the british plant we're working with. It's supposed to be highly toxic if ingested, but it hasn't reached that stage of maturity. Before I know it, Riddle has joined us in the greenhouse. He works a few places down from me and I catch his curious gaze a few times.

Class ends after what feels like forever. I stay at my bench, lingering. I don't want to leave the moist warmth of the greenhouse yet. Riddle has waited, too. 'Come on, let's go,' he tells me. I follow him. Outside, it's still chilly. It's almost April now, but Britain is still cold. Riddle leads us to a small hill that looks out over the castle and the lake. He sits on the grass, 'We have a 30 minute break now.' I nod.

I dig into my robe's pocket for a minute, before coming up with a small silver box. I open the catch and pull out a cigarette. It's a perfect cigarette, bought from my favorite store in Paris. Now, we're lucky to find a slight hit of nicotine in what they're selling, but I was able to get this just before the Germans stormed the city. I've been conserving them for months.

I offer one to him but he shakes his head. I return the box to my pocket and Riddle is lighting the cigarette in my mouth with his wand. I inhale for a long moment, as though breathing in the fire will melt me. Finally, I say, 'It doesn't feel like the world is ending here.'

He smiles, 'No, but you should see London, it feels like it there. Bombs all the time.'

I frown, 'I wonder if it's worse to have the Nazis in the street or in the air.'

He shrugs, 'Who cares?' I take another drag, relishing in the taste of the smoke. No wonder Mr. Churchill likes cigars so much.

'I've seen so much evil, Riddle. I can't wait till this war is over.'

'Who are you, Rosalie?' He asks.

I shrug, 'I'm just someone who managed to get away.'

We sit in silence again. 'Who are you, Riddle?' I ask.

'Someone everyone will know of,' he replies. I shake my head, recognition is not always a good thing. I continue to inhale the smoke. On the last drag, I exhale through my nose. I crush the butt under my boot, standing.

'Let's go,' I say.

'Defense Against the Dark Arts is next,' he announces as we head towards the castle.

A small snort escapes me before I can control it. He frowns, his dark eyebrows pulling together, 'What's funny? It's my favorite subject.'

I smile, for the first time in a while, 'I have some experience there, you could say.'

'Oh, right,' he nods as though he understands. He doesn't. No one understands. I shiver.

We take our seats in the classroom. I already know I will hate Defense. This stupid subject has done nothing for me. Nothing will bring back my mother. Nothing will fix my destroyed family. The Dark Arts have stolen everything from me. Everything. I will loathe them for the rest of my life. Suddenly, all I can see are my dark days from the last few months. All the days I felt like giving up. I see my mother, eyes glassy. I feel myself falling apart and try to regain my calm.

I count my breaths until I've fully returned to myself. I'm here. At Hogwarts. I'm safe. The class ends before we get to discussing protection charms. I follow Riddle out of the class. In the Great Hall, several people introduce themselves. There are several boys around Riddle, a Malfoy, Rosier, Mulciber, Nott. Then there are the girls. Dorea Black, Irina Parkinson, Amelia Crabbe.

I feel crushed by the voices around me, but I force myself to smile at all of them. I don't say much, but focus on the small quiche on my plate. I take a bite. It feels like chewing sawdust. 'I'm going to show Ms. Rosalie around a little more,' Riddle announces to the table. They're discussing their plans for the Easter Holiday in two weeks and the Hogsmeade trip this weekend.

'Thanks,' I say as we exit the Hall, letting the clamour fall away.

'No problem, you seemed a little overwhelmed.'

I smile tightly, 'It's been awhile since I've been around so many people. It is a little intimidating.'

He watches me carefully as we walk down the halls together. 'What's your secret, Marie Rosalie?' he asks.

He is far too perceptive for a sixteen year old boy. I watch him through guarded eyes. It's useless to deny it, so I simply say, 'It wouldn't be a secret if I told you, would it?'

'You'll tell me someday,' he says confidently.

I shrug, 'We'll see.' He shows me the owlery and the quidditch pitch from a distance. 'Potions?' I ask. He nods and together we head for the dungeons. I still feel lost in this magnificent fortress.

I love potions. I absolutely adore it. And I'm good at it. I was the best potioneer in all of Beauxbatons, despite being a fourth year. My mother was a potioneer and she was the best in the world. So good, in fact, that it's no wonder that she kept us hidden as long as she did. No wonder my father wanted her so badly.

I focus on the smell of the classroom. Slughorn announces that we'll be brewing a Draught of Peace that is sure to come up on our OWLs. Riddle, like me, doesn't check the book. We both gather our ingredients. 'It's easier if you cut it lengthwise first,' I tell Riddle about his roots. He frowns but tries my suggestion.

By the end of two hours, I have helped Dorea and Thoros Nott, who are also at our table. As I go to pick up a vial to bottle the concoction, I can't help but point out to a Gryffindor boy that he's stirring the wrong way. 'Thanks,' he says. I nod. I'm finished before anyone else and I sit in front of my cauldron, thinking that I, myself, could use a Draught of Peace. I take a small sip and feel my body relax a bit.

Riddle finishes a few minutes after I do. 'You're good at this,' he mentions.

I smile, 'My mother was very talented at it.'

'Like the grand "Léa Riposte,' he laughs. I force myself to laugh, too. I didn't think anyone would know my mother's name here. My laugh dies in my throat, though as he says, 'Isn't she in hiding in France?' I suddenly can't breathe.

Because, no, she isn't hiding in France. She's dead. I feel my heart beating quickly and my breaths are accelerating, but I feel numb. I feel like I'm falling. Before I can answer Riddle, Slughorn is dismissing the class. I sit on my stool for a few more moments, pressing my hands to my eyes, trying to block out all the image of my dead mother.

'Are you okay?' He asks. I wonder if he's my angel. My dark angel, with those grey eyes and black hair. I shake my head, 'No, I don't think so.' He offers me his arm. I lean on it as we exit the classroom. He takes me to the Slytherin common room. There are only a couple second years in the corner, but a look from Riddle sends them flying out.

'Well, that was the last class of the day. Do you want to start the homework?' Riddle asks me and I nod. I think he knows work will distract me. I pull out the potions essay Slughorn has asked us to write on poison blends. The area of poisons is one of my specialties. My mother has tested my antidote brewing and poison knowledge since I was tiny. Maybe she knew that one day I would be on the run.

I scribble for the next half hour without consulting a book. The common room fills up, but I am able to ignore everyone while I am here, secluded with Riddle. My writing is cramped and curvy. I look over at Riddle. He's labeling a plant we'll be working with in our next Herbology lesson. His writing is more masculine and blockly, but elegant all the same. I finish my essay after another thirty minutes of diligent work. I roll up the parchment and tuck it into my bag.

I pull out the diagram I was also given at the end of Herbology and start to label it. This one is more difficult for me. I flip through my textbook as Riddle begins his potions essay. I scratch out an incorrect spelling and rewrite it. When I look back up, Riddle is looking at me like he wants to ask something. I raise my brows.

'Yes?' I inquire. 'I could do this myself, but I would have to go to the library, so I thought I might ask. If you have Draught of Living Death mixed with Pepper-Up, what happens to the drinker?' I think for a second. 'Well, the powdered asphodel would react poorly with the mandrake root in this case, because the potions aren't the same consistency. I'm not sure, but I'd hazard a guess that you would fall into a sleep, but it wouldn't be as deep as usual with DoLD because it's impure.' He looks at me for a second, then nods. 'I was just wondering, because Slughorn mentioned that some potions work really well together. Like Babbling Brew and Veritaserum.' I nod and return to my diagram.

We finish at the same time and I know I should tackle my DADA homework but the thought of it annoys me. It's a quick six inches on different types of protective charms. I know enough to write a book. Groaning, I decide putting it off is a bad idea. Once again, my previous knowledge assists me. I have eight inches of highly summarized information on the most basic protection charms. That should be good. I look over and Riddle has at least a foot. No wonder he's a prefect.

He finishes a few minutes after I put all my things away. 'Dinner?' he asks. I grimace, not wanting to face another crowd of people, but I figure I should get it out of the way. I nod. I dart into my room and put my things away and wait for him in front of a window in the common room. He joins me minutes later and we walk to the Great Hall in silence. It's amicable, though.

Already I know Riddle is a companion well suited to me. I can go hours on end without feeling the need to utter a single word and something tells me he is the same way. We sit at the Slytherin table. About half the school is here already. Something in me feels calmer. I feel like I can get through this dinner without another panic attack.

I sit down next to Riddle and next to Dorea Black. 'How was your first day?' she asks. I smile at this. Small talk, I can handle. 'It was really interesting, especially compared to Beauxbatons. Here, you focus more on theory.' 'What's your favorite class?' A boy with dark hair asks from across the table. 'Potions, of course.' I grin.

I suddenly feel a rush of hunger a I put a large serving of chicken on my plate. I fill my goblet with pumpkin juice. I focus on eating for the next few minutes, but my heart rate isn't accelerated. I feel okay. 'So what do you have tomorrow?' Dorea asks. I pull out my schedule. 'Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, and I have a free afternoon. And astronomy in the evening.' 'You should see Sluggie about that blank,' says a boy who can only be a Malfoy, 'You're not supposed to have gaps until 6th year.' I nod, 'When?' 'I'll take you when we're finished,' Riddle offers. I nod and smile at him.

Before I know it, I'm done eating a small helping of chocolate cake and Riddle and I are walking out the door. We head to the potions classroom but keep walking to the next door. I reach out a knock. 'Enter,' a jovial voice says. I press my fingers against each other for a moment, trying to find serenity.

I push the door open and step in. 'Hi Professor. I just wanted to ask you about my blank afternoon tomorrow.' I decide to jump straight into it. I don't want to be kept small talking. My nerves are frayed from the day and I want nothing more than to crawl into my bed and fall asleep. 'Ah, yes. We usually let students decide what to do on Wednesday afternoons. Generally, they help teachers with their younger pupils. Mr. Riddle here does extra DADA, I believe.' Riddle nods, 'I help Professor Merrythought with the younger years.'

I purse my lips for a fraction of a second. I'm amazing at two things only, potions and wandless magic. 'Could I work with you, Professor?' I risk. 'My mother was a potioneer.' Slughorn smiles. He is like a happy beachball, I decide. But based on the cabinet I see behind him, a rather influential happy beachball. It is crammed with photographs of famous wizards and witches.

'Well, how about you come tomorrow and do independent study, I want to make sure your skills are up to scratch before I let you loose on the first years.' I nod and murmur an of course, but a flash of anger strikes through me. I have already ventured into the realms of Alchemy, something most potioneers never dare try. I had a correspondence with Nicholas Flamel before the war. I even have written a few articles in Transfiguration Today about potioneering. Not that Slughorn knows. Not that I can tell him, because my name is still my biggest secret. It will always be my biggest secret.

'Well, I have a meeting with the Headmaster so I best get going,' Slughorn says. He ushers Riddle and I out of the office and disappears down the hall. When I can no longer hear his footsteps I let out a sharp breath, 'Up to scratch,' I say with a hint of contempt. Riddle chuckles and it feels like a victory. How often does this stoic boy laugh anyway.

'What's the most complicated potion you know?' I ask Riddle. He raises a single brow, 'Does it have to be legal?' I shrug, 'Just nothing Dark. That won't add to my reputation.' I can tell this intrigues him, but I don't want to give him ideas so I say quickly, 'I'll brew some Felix Felicis, no one ever gets that right until their second year of Mastery usually.'

Back in the common room, I bid Riddle good-night and disappear to my room. I'm too exhausted to do much but crawl under the covers. I heave a grateful sigh at the warmth. I feel warm and cozy. My homework is done. And I think I have at least one ally in this castle. Even if he is dark and broody. I wonder how long it will take me to crack Tom Riddle. And I wonder if his secrets could ever compare to mine. I fall into a state of half-sleep where I jerk awake every time my mind gets pulled into unconsciousness. It doesn't make for a very restful night, but I do avoid the nightmares.

The next day passes in a blur. The homework load is immense and I try to work on it during the down time while my Felix brews. Dumbledore is an amazing teacher. I struggle with Transfiguration but he explains so well it was downright easy. Charms is fun, but the essay assigned will not be. History of Magic is rather dull, but we have to write a summary on the points causing the Salem Witch Trials in America.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day passes in a blur. The homework load is immense and I try to work on it during the down time while my Felix brews. Dumbledore is an amazing teacher. I struggle with Transfiguration but he explains so well it was downright easy. Charms is fun, but the essay assigned will not be. History of Magic is rather dull, but we have to write a summary on the points causing the Salem Witch Trials in America.

By the time two hours have passed, my Felix is a clear color. This is a good indicator. It will need to stew for two more days before I add the next ingredient. Slughorn appraises my work and I can tell he is impressed because he says, 'I'm not sure teaching would be best for you. Do you want to work with brewing Hogwarts store potions for me and in return, you can use the rest of the time to pursue your own projects. I'm sure a potioneer like yourself has her own ideas to implement.' I flush at his compliment and accept his offer. His words of the day before are forgotten.

I meet Riddle in the hall. It feels only natural. We head for the library. I try to list out the points I will include in my essay. I'm just commenting on the brutality of it all when I hear a scream somewhere to the left of us. I feel the adrenaline spiking in my veins before we turn the corner. Before we get any further, a sharp looking woman comes running down the hall. 'Go back to your common rooms.' And I know the scared look in her eyes only too well. It's the same look I get when I think of my father.

Already my heart is beating a staccato against my ribs. I turn and head straight back to the common room. I try to count the stones beneath my feet. Does my father know I am here? Is this him operating through another? Or is it something else entirely. I only realize Riddle is not behind me when I fall through the stone curtain guarding the entrance to the common room.

I know something must be very wrong because some people are looking scared. I pull my cloak tighter around myself. In my room, I press my cold fingers to my temples. _He can't get me. He can't get me._ I repeat like a mantra to myself. I slip back into the common room when I hear the students stop talking. There must be news.

'Miss Marr has been petrified,' Slughorn tells us. A clamor of questions meets this announcement. How? Why? He is evasive. I realize the staff doesn't know why. If this happens again, I know Hogwarts will be in danger. People will assume Grindelwald has infiltrated Hogwarts. Slughorn retreats back out the door after giving us a new set of rules and curfews. Astronomy tonight has been cancelled.

'Are you okay?' A smooth voice asks me. I don't have to turn to know it's Riddle. I look at him, 'I just hope this was a one time thing.' I don't explain further. I came here to escape my tyrannical father, not deal with more of his antics. But if there is one thing I will do, it is stop his minion. I will find the person responsible for this. I feel something cold in the bottom of my stomach. I realize it is anger. I am sick of people preying on the weak. I'm done.

I came to Hogwarts to ally myself with the person my father fears and hates most. Dumbledore will not let this school close. I will do anything to assist him. I reach into the inner pocket of my robes. I touch the two vials there. One deadly poison, one antidote. I find an empty table in the dark corner. Riddle follows. I set to work on my assignments. I finish them as quickly as possible but it still takes a couple hours. I enjoy the work. It drowns out the thoughts of murder.

When I finish, I notice people leaving the common room, heading for dinner. I get up and wave my wand. My things vanish to my room. Riddle does the same. He hasn't spoken since asking me if I was okay. He seems off, distant. His mind is certainly on something else. Of this, I am certain. He does not seem scared, though.

Dinner passes in a rush of conversation about what happened. Apparently a Muggle-born Hufflepuff was petrified. Already, I feel the disgust well up in my. Blood prejudice has been taken much too far. I know this better than most. For a second, my father's face flashes in front of my eyes. I blink and he's gone.

I leave dinner before the others. I need to calm down and formulate a plan. I walk through the Hogwarts corridors alone. I feel ghost-like. Maybe I should leave. I might be able to do better work outside the castle. But the thought of leaving the safety this place gives me is terrifying. Instead, I try to think.

I can't think of any of Grindelwald's supporters with ties to Hogwarts. It's possible it's someone else. I close my eyes. Whoever is doing this is either unaware of the implications of attacks on muggle-borns or is disregarding them. Durmstrang was closed over student attacks for a few months after my father was expelled. Here, I am sure they would close the school. Especially to shut down an inside agent.

Then, a terrible thought occurs to me. Something that should have occurred to me much sooner. What if they think it's me? Here I am, a blood relative of Grindelwald. The week I arrive, there's an attack on a muggle-born student. My chest feels tight. I need air. I reverse course away from the dungeons. I don't know how to get around, but I know the building has towers. Towers with tall roofs.

I head upwards. I climb all the staircases I find. Eventually I reach a room that I can only guess is the Astronomy classroom. It's empty, but there is a long balcony that looks straight into the sky. I glide to the edge of the railing. I hate heights almost as much as I hate the dark. Instead of looking down, I turn my eyes skyward. It's freezing up here, but at least I can breathe.

I sit down on the cold stone and stare up at the stars. I label the constellations in my head and let myself enjoy the silence. I hear an owl hoot in the night. I close my eyes and lean up against the rails. I feel so empty, like a gust of wind could push me off this tower. I wonder if I should let it. Is this the life I want to be living? Broken and on the run. Before I can contemplate this further, a voice startles me out of my reverie.

'Students aren't allowed up here outside of class time.' The smooth voice scares me so much that I'm on my feet with my wand in my hand within a blink of an eye. It's Tom, of course.

'Why are you here?' I ask.

'Prefect rounds.' I almost laugh. Imagine a world in which your biggest fears were getting caught by prefects for being out of bounds.

'Sorry, I didn't know.' And it's true.

He knows this and says, 'It's fine. How about I walk you back to the common room.' I nod, words have abandoned me. We head down the stairs in silence. He takes a different way than I did coming up. I'm about to step down when his fingers circle my wrist. I stop.

My wrist burns where his skin meets mine. 'You're freezing,' he comments. I shrug, I always feel cold. 'Trick step,' he says nodded at the step I was about to reach. He lets go of my wrist and I jump over the step. My skin feels scorched. I can't remember the last time someone actually tried to touch me like that, unassuming and innocent. I shiver.

We reach the dungeons a little bit later. I stop, not ready to re-enter the common room. At that exact moment, a first year turns the corner. 'Miss Rosalie?' He asks. I nod. 'This is for you,' and he shoves a rolled up parchment towards me. I grab it. Uncurling it slowly, I read the contents.

 _Please meet me in my office at once._

 _AD_

There is absolutely no doubt about who sent it. I can feel my heart beating quicker. He can't send me away, he can't. I know it's desperate even as I think it. 'Where's Dumbledore's office?' I ask. Tom looks puzzled but I don't have it in me to explain.

'I can walk you there,' he offers. I nod.

We ghost through the halls. I'm already preparing a defense of my case. I will do anything to stay here. Albus is my protection. I tug on a blond curl pensively... I hate that I look like him. It's awful. I can't look into the mirror without seeing my father's eyes. We arrive sooner than I would like. Tom offers to wait outside. I don't answer. I can't.

Inside, I turn to Albus. I point my wand at the door, waving it non-verbally. It's the strongest silencing spell I know. Tom hasn't won my trust. No one here has. 'Marie,' Albus greets.

'I know why you called me here. I had nothing to do with the attack. I swear it on pain of death. I'll take Veritaserum. Mind you, I have a bit of a resistance, so you need to give me double the dose. I swear, I would never do that. I have done everything to distance myself from my father's legacy.' He holds up a hand and I shut up instantly.

It's the most I've spoken since the night I arrived. I touch the two bottles through the robe. One poison, one antidote. Take a life, save a life. 'I believe you.' I gape. 'We found a message near the body. It said, "The heir of Slytherin has returned."'

My eyebrows shoot up, 'What does that mean?'

'Supposedly that the Chamber of Secrets is open.' This does nothing to clear up my confusion. Albus explains about the history of Hogwarts and I start to understand. 'This allows me to conclude that it could not have been you, Marie. No one in your family has attended Hogwarts and I knew Gellert well enough to know that he did not believe himself to be the heir to any of the founders.' I nod.

'I wanted to ask you to keep an eye out, though. Since your house is implicated, would you just keep your eyes open?'

'Yes. I'll do anything,' I exhale.

'Are you settling in okay?' He asks. And here is the difference between him and Gellert. He cares.

I gulp, 'I still have panic attacks. Moments where someone says something and it reminds me of something. Someone mentioned my mother's name. He killed her,' my voice cracks. It's the first time I've admitted it. She's gone. It makes it real.

'I'm sorry,' the professor says. I can tell he means it.

'I should go,' I say. I feel exhausted and battered. It's hard to believe that I was sitting in his class earlier today.

'Goodnight, Marie. Please don't hesitate to ask if you need something.' I bow slightly and thank him. I wave my wand, letting my silencing spell break and return to the corridor. Tom has surprised me. He's still waiting.

My emotions are running high and I press my hands onto my eyes till I see stars. 'My mother's dead,' I say in a hollow voice.

'Did you just find out?' I shake my head. I take a step and stumble. And its crashing down. My carefully boxed up mind is failing me. The barriers are dissolving and I can feel the crisp autumn day when my mother bought me my wand. I can taste the sea air where we would summer. I can feel her skin beneath my fingers and I can smell her shampoo. I can see our potions lab and hear her laugh. And then the tears come. I feel so, so alone without her.

I'm gasping for air. Riddle looks shocked, like he has no idea how to deal with this. I sob. I take a shaky step forward and crash to the floor. I register the pain in some far corner of my mind. I'm so tired. But I fight sleep, because I don't want the nightmares. It's been days since I slept. I can't imagine how I must seem, sobbing in the 4th floor corridor, curled up into a ball on the cold stone floor.

I can't find the energy to get back up. I can't find the energy to want to be alive anymore. I suddenly wish I was made of dust so I could be blown away with a gust of wind. I feel the two vials digging into my side. One poison, one antidote. I sob and think about why I have them. The poison is easy, in case someone finds me. I swallow it before they can hurt me or make them swallow it. The antidote a little more complicated. It's mercy and love and forgiveness.

But then, I feel a slight pressure. An arm below my knees and one supporting my head. I can hear a heartbeat that isn't mine. I focus on it, let it ground me. I'm being lowered into something soft. I reach out to the person carrying me, grabbing their wrist. I let my fingers cover their pulse. That calming heartbeat. I'm covered with warmth. Something is being forced down my throat. I don't care what it is. I feel the sleepiness. The hand in mine tries to pull away. 'No,' I croak, 'Please don't leave me. I can't take another person leaving me.' So the hand stays.


	4. Chapter 4

I wake up disoriented. I don't know where I am. My right hand feels like it's inside a sun. It takes me a minute to realize someone is holding it. And another minute to realize that person is Tom. And then I realize that he must have witnessed my awful breakdown last night and he must have carried me to the hospital wing. He's sleeping in an uncomfortable chair.

Daylight is streaming through the windows. I don't have a watch and my wand is sitting on the bedside table far away from me. I twist my fingers and the numbers appear in the air 9:30. I've slept for a long time. I look back at Riddle. He looks peaceful when he's sleeping. His black hair is mussed and I can't deny that it's a good look. I try to memorize the way his hair contrasts with his pale skin. The way his back is arched uncomfortably to fit his long frame in the chair. I want to remember this moment, when someone picked me up when I couldn't pick myself up.

I stare at our connected hands. His fingers are laced through mine. It's like the warmth is melting me. I'm a girl trapped in ice and he's my personal sun. The matron emerges from her office and sees I'm awake. She opens her mouth but I raise a finger to my lips and point at Tom. She nods. Whispering she says, 'He refused to leave last night. He really is such a sweetheart. Considering his past, he really is amazingly polite.'

I raise my eyebrows. 'His past?' My voice is very quiet.

'He grew up an orphan in muggle London. He works so hard so people don't see him that way. But every day on the start of term, he comes in to get some bruises and cuts fixed up.' My heart clenches and I feel so many emotions I don't know how to describe. All I want to do is envelope Tom in my arms. I don't ever want to let go of his hand.

'How are you feeling?' she asks. I shrug. I feel empty and cold. Like sadness has passed and there's nothing left. But there's my hand inside its heater. I feel a rush of affection for the boy who saw me when I was at my worst and stayed. The matron frowns, 'I want to keep you here a little while.' I nod. 'I'll check on you soon.' I nod again. I stare at the ceiling.

I adjust my hand in Tom's so that my first two first fingers are covering his pulse. It's slow, the beat of a sleeping person. I don't know how much time passes until he jerks awake. I watch him as he blinks awake. 'Good morning,' I say, barely whispering. He looks up.

'What time is it?'

'9:45.'

His eyes widen. 'I need to go to class.' I nod. And he's gone. He's left before I can ask him why he saved me.

I spend the next few hours trying to entertain myself. I've summoned my cards. It's an enchanted deck so you can play against invisible opponents. After an hour, I tire of this. After a look around the hospital wing, I start to build a castle using wandless magic. I flick my fingers at a card, levitate it and gently stack them. It's almost a metre high when the door to the infirmary opens and slams, creating a gust that destroys my work. I wave my hand lazily and the cards organize and jump into my hand.

I look up and see I have a visitor. It's Tom. He's holding a stack of papers and levitating a tray at the same time. He strides meaningfully towards me. I feel a stinging feeling in my eyes. He came back to see me. He drops the papers in my lap and the tray on the table over my bed. It has sandwiches and cookies and pumpkin juice. I can't explain how touched I am by this gesture.

The papers are detailed notes of our Herbology lecture and a note from the professor excusing me from my homework. 'How did you talk me out of the homework?' I ask.

'I'm convincing,' he says and flashes a smirk. I take a sandwich and manage to eat half of it. I take a bite of the cookie.

He frowns, 'You should eat more.'

I shrug, 'Not hungry.' His brows are raised but he doesn't press the issue.

A bell rings and he shoots up, 'Got to go.'

He visits me again after dinner. Without food, this time. Madam Faustus has forced me to consume a whole bowl of soup. I've finished all my homework and am playing a game of chess against the charmed board. He gives me my Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies homework. The Runes notes are his blockly handwriting but the Muggle Studies notes are someone else's. 'I asked a Ravenclaw to take the Muggle Studies notes. I'm in Arithmancy instead.' I nod, I love Arithmancy, but I don't mention this out loud.

I add the notes to the Herbology pile. He rubs a spot in his neck. I wonder if its from sleeping in that terrible position. I think he can tell that I don't want to talk, so he sits down and pulls out a book. I start a chess game with the charmed board. A few minutes later he speaks, 'You should move your queen out of the way.' The game continues like this. His book is forgotten as he coaches me through the moves. I'm terrible at chess and I can tell he is brilliant at it.

He leaves not too long after that. I can't resist the pull of sleep for too long and I succumb. I wake up in a cold sweat. The nightmares haunt my sleeping hours. It must be late. I feel like I won't fall asleep again soon, so I stare at the ceiling. Somehow, this is what I've become. A girl who stares at the arches above her until the room lightens. This time, the matron comes out and offers me some bread. I force myself to eat it.

'How are you feeling?'

'Better,' I lie, 'Can I go to class today? Friday's are half days anyways.'

She purses her lips. 'Alright, but no exerting yourself. What do you have today?'

I think back to my timetable. 'Potions and Defense.'

'You can go to Potions but I'm excusing you from DADA.'

This is welcome news. 'Okay!' I agree readily.

She helps me out of bed and into the hospital wing shower. The water is turned up to the max heat, but I still don't feel warm. I change into the pair of robes left for me perform a drying spell on my hair.

I enter the potions classroom late and give my note to Slughorn. I slink to my seat and stare at the table. Today we're brewing Dreamless Sleep. I almost laugh at the irony. I open my potions kit and select the ingredients. A parchment with familiar blocky handwriting appears near my caldron. Are you okay? Tom has asked me. I look around. Slughorn is helping a student whose potion has turned an unfortunate blood red. I scribble a response. I don't even know what okay means anymore.

I finish my potion quickly. I work on the Muggle Studies and Runes homework Riddle gave me last night. I'm in the middle of translating a particularly different passage when Tom taps my book and parchment with his wand. They have been charmed to look like potions things. I see his reason as professor Slughorn ambles down the aisle towards us.

I check my potion. It's still the correct shade of light pink. Slughorn praises me loudly and then Tom. We each win some house points. I try to care, but I can't. He moves on. Tom gives me my homework back. I finish the translation just as the bell rings. With a wave of my wand, I pack my things into my bag. We have another 30 minutes break now, before DADA. I thank the stars that I don't have to actually go to Defense.

Riddle leads me to the same patch of grass we went on my first day here. I'm tempted to light up again, but I don't want to waste my cigarettes. There isn't anyone to owl me extras. Riddle notices this and asks, 'No smokes?' I shrug, 'I only have six left. I usually use them for the really bad moments.' He laughs and starts to dig in his pockets. He emerges with his own small metal box. He offers me one. I accept it and light it absently with my finger. I inhale.

'That's disgusting,' I inform him.

'British fags not good enough for you?' he asks.

I cough, 'Jesus, what is in that?' He lights one up himself, with his wand.

'You don't need a wand for that,' I say before I can stop myself. He looks at me, surprised. I hold up a finger, a flame dancing on my index finger. 'I don't know why people restrict themselves to wands,' I comment nonchalantly. His cigarette is disgusting, but I enjoy it all the same.

He doesn't try my little flame trick. Usually I'm okay with silence, but it feels slightly uncomfortable so I say, 'I wouldn't expect wizards here to smoke.'

He laughs, 'It's a bit of a nasty habit I picked up in muggle London. What about you?'

I scoff, 'I'm French. Everyone smokes.' I inhale again, 'It's not bad for us the way it is for muggles. I don't know why.'

My cigarette is burned half way now. I take a very long drag, holding my breath in. I flick the ash off and let the smoke out slowly through my lips. 'Let's head to Defense?' He asks.

I shake my head, 'Why so rushed? Take a minute.' So he waits. I finish smoking calmly and crush the butt under my boot. Then we head for the classroom. I hand Professor Merrythought my excuse from the Hospital Wing. She wishes me well and I nod to Riddle before leaving the room.

I don't have any more classes today. I figure I should finish my homework so I can spend the weekend without worrying about it. After 20 minutes of getting lost, a helpful ghost points me towards the library. I set my things down on a table there and start on my work. I'm so engrossed, I only realize I've missed lunch once I've finished. I don't mind much because I don't have much of an appetite these days anyways.

I still feel tired. Sleeping one and a half nights isn't enough to recuperate after months of little to no sleep. I rest my head on top of the essay for Potions I've finished. I couldn't hurt to close my eyes for a couple minutes…

I'm back in the hotel room my mother told me she would be. It's in the 2nd arrondissement in Paris. I climb the stairs with the deep trepidation of knowing what's coming. Like a really terrible film you know the ending to. Something startles me and dissolves the image. I wake with a start. My hand flies to my cheeks where I feel the tears. I wipe them away. Riddle is standing there. Who else would it be?

'Dinner?' he asks like nothing out of the ordinary is happening. I can't, though. I just really, really can't.

He frowns, 'Come on, you have to eat something.'

'I can't, Riddle.'

He frowns again but says, 'I'll walk you back to the common room.' He does so, in silence. Silence is a curious thing, I think. It can be oppressive or peaceful. This one is peaceful. I slide through the stone curtain and he turns back around towards the Great Hall.

In my room, I dig through my trunk until I find a felt pouch. I untie the string keeping it together. When it opens, vials upon vials glint back at me. I chose the pale pink one, the same potion I brewed earlier today. I wish I could take Dreamless Sleep every night, but the effects wear off if you use it too often. I unstopper the tube and toast the air. Gulping it down, I feel the drowsiness overtaking me. I crawl under my covers and fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

I wake in the very early hours of the morning. Sleep has rejuvenated me. I feel more alive than I have in days. And hungry, I feel hungry. I take a warm shower and get dressed. I slip out of the common room and head towards the Great Hall. I know how to get exactly two places now, the Potions room and the Great Hall. There are only a couple Gryffindors in the hall, eating before quidditch practice, based on their attire.

I slide into a bench at my table and look around. I see some toast and get some of that. I spread a little bit of butter on it. I pour myself a glass of orange juice. 'Morning,' A voice startles me. It's Tom with his couple of friends. Abraxas Malfoy, the blond, and Thoros Nott. Nott has brown hair and blue eyes that pierce you. I wonder how it is that Riddle is so close with the tight knit aristocracy of English wizards. In France, that kind of thinking disappeared long ago, with the revolution.

I reply back, 'Good morning.' I take a small bite of toast. Then another. I put it down quietly. I barely notice the frown Riddle is giving me, but it's there.

Abraxas asks me, 'Going to Hogsmeade?'

I clear my throat, 'Sorry what?'

'The village near here. Students are allowed to visit if they're over third year.'

'Just come with us,' Abraxas says. I don't want to. If my father is looking for me, I bet there will be men in the village. But the thought of a little fresh air and a little freedom is tempting.

I feel conflicted, but it is resolved for me as Riddle says, 'You should come with us.' I nod and take another bite of toast. I watch the boys fill their plates and wonder how they eat so much.

I banish the note away and turn to the boys. 'I need my cloak before we leave.' They've finished eating now.

'Let's go get it and then we can head out,' Malfoy says. The clock in the hall says it's just passed 6:30.

'Why so early?' I ask. 'Best selections on new potion ingredients and sweets.' Thoros answers.

Within minutes, we are back from the dormitory. I am wrapped in my cloak and we start to head out. It's a beautiful day, one of the last of March. It'd be nice to buy some sugar quills. I'm absolutely addicted to them for studying... or rather, I was addicted to them… in another life. And maybe some new potions things. The walk there is a comfortable quiet. I walk between Abraxas and Riddle. We arrive in the village just as the shops are opening up. I follow the boys into Tomes and Scrolls, a bookshop near us. I head for the potions section at once.

Now that I am back to a stable lab, I should get back to my research. Before my mother died, she was looking into the shady realms of alchemy, to find a way to create another philosopher's stone. I need to continue that research, to honor her. The selection is rather sparse here, though. The books are nothing past a NEWT level. I wrinkle my nose and leave that section. Riddle has already purchased his books. The others are waiting near the door. The next shop is amazing.

'Honeydukes,' Tom says. He doesn't need to explain more. It feels warm in here and it smells like spun sugar. I circle around the shop. I end up purchasing a few dozen sugar quills, a box of every flavored beans, and mint-chocolate cauldron cakes. I was able to access my family's London vault in Diagon Alley. It's a fraction of the fortune I have in Paris, but it's more than enough to get by on. We head to an apothecary next. I replenish some of my ingredients like beatles eyes and basic roots, stuff that I use all the time.

After, the boys rush us across the street to a pub called the Three Broomsticks. The cold has increased outside and it bites me even through my thick cloak. Inside, Abraxas orders four warm butterbeers. It's a very British drink, but it does warm me up. We cram into a table.

'I'm think it may rain,' Thoros comments.

'I hope not,' I mutter.

Abraxas laughs and I allow myself a small smile. It feels normal here, to be with these boys. 'There's a quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor in a week, just before the Easter holiday,' Abraxas mentions. Tom makes a small noise of agreement.

'Do you play?' I ask Riddle.

'We all do,' he answers.

'Which positions?' I ask

'I'm seeker,' Tom says, 'Abraxas is a chaser and Thoros is a beater.'

'I must say, I've never been so interested in it,' I confess.

'Beauxbatons must not have good teams. You have to see our team play. We've won the house cup for three years in a row!' Thoros says passionately. He and Abraxas break off into a conversation about tactics that I don't understand even a little.

Tom looks at me, 'How are you feeling?'

I smile, because right here, I feel safe. 'Better.' I know that tonight, I will struggle once more in my dreams, but in this moment, I feel so much better. The boys don't push me to talk and I actually feel relaxed. Well, maybe not relaxed, but certainly less fearful that my certain death is lurking around each corner. I let my mind drift as I sip my butterbeer. I look at Tom. He really is quite good looking. Debonair and silent, but all angles.

I'm jolted back to the present when Abraxas raises his voice and says, 'Well, let me show you! Let's go right now,' to Thoros. I raise my eyebrows and glance at Tom.

He lowers his voice and says, 'They're arguing about the new Comet Six Broomstick.'

'Ah,' I breathe back.

Thoros looks to Tom. Tom nods and Abraxas and Thoros stand to leave. It's such a strange interaction, like they're asking for permission. But it does seem like Riddle is the leader of their little group. I let it go though, as I too-often over think things. Tom and I are still sitting side by side. In the slightly chilly air of the bar, he warms my right side. I finish my drink and sigh. 'What the matter?' he asks.

'Nothing, truly. Only that this has been a rather difficult year,' I tell him.

'Because of your mother?' His face doesn't show a lot of emotion but I have enough experience understanding people to read his eyes. They show genuine concern.

'Yes. Grindelwald killed her himself. I watched him do it.' I tell him. It's the first time I've said these exact words. No one else knows that I watched him do it. I watched him laugh at her from across the room. I watched him raise that horrible wand and end my whole life. I blink away these thoughts.

'My mother died when I was born. I grew up in a muggle orphanage,' he tells me, with no lack of bitterness, 'It's not a welcoming place for a boy displaying strange signs. The matron attempted to have me exorcised.'

I gasp. It seems such an intimate detail about one's life to share. 'I'm… sorry,' I say.

'I've come to terms with it. I resent that I cannot stay the summers at school and that I must return always to that dreadful place.'

'And you father?' I ask.

'I have no idea,' he tells me. If his voice was bitter earlier, it is nothing compared to now. Something tells me he does know something about his father, something terrible.

'Do fancy a walk?' He asks.

I smile sheepishly, 'It's rather cold, no?'

He smirks, 'I'm rather adept at warming charms.'

As we step outside, though, starts to drizzle. I conjure an umbrella and hold it over the both of us. Tom casts his warming charm and take the umbrella from me. 'Perhaps we should head back to the castle instead?' I laugh and nod. As we walk, the wind intensifies cuts at us. Tom's charm is quite strong, but I'm losing feeling in my fingers. Just as I'm about to say something, a strong gust of wind rips the umbrella apart.

We're both drenched within seconds. I take off running towards the castle, Tom on my heels. Even though it's absolutely freezing, I laugh. Because this is the sort of trouble I would get into two years ago. Running through the freezing rain, I feel free. I glance backwards. This is a mistake because the high heel of my boots catches on something and I'm falling forward. Just before I hit the ground, Tom catches me.

I smile at him and giggle some more. 'I'm sorry.' The look in his eyes is intense and I stop my laughing. His eyes are grey, like the clouds above us, like the water below the cliffs in the North of France. And then, like it's the most natural thing in the world, we're kissing. And it's like finally breathing after being underwater for a century. And even though I think my hair is actually frozen, I've never felt warmer. I realize that this is what safety means. This is what home feels like. And it's been so little time, but I'm reevaluating if Plato was right. Are we two parts of the same soul, a star split apart? Because even though I'm so broken right now, Tom makes me feel complete.


End file.
